


Who So Loves Believes the Impossible (The Metaphysical Gravity Remix)

by krabapple



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crossover, F/M, M/M, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-10
Updated: 2011-12-10
Packaged: 2017-10-27 03:42:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krabapple/pseuds/krabapple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The more things change, the more they change.  Sirius Black and Rose Tyler face brave new worlds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who So Loves Believes the Impossible (The Metaphysical Gravity Remix)

**Author's Note:**

> Original story: [On the Other Side](http://thistlerose.livejournal.com/637032.html?style=mine) by Thistlerose
> 
> Spoilers for HP through _Half-Blood Prince_ and for Doctor Who through Season 3's _Smith and Jones_.

At first, Sirius dreams.

There's whirling starlight, tiny pinpricks of light behind his eyes that begin to swirl. Sometimes they dance, constellations moving and shifting into incandescence. Sometimes they turn into lines, long lines of light that go on for miles and miles and miles. Sometimes there are few stars, only one or two, so far away from each other and so tiny to Sirius' eyes.

Suns and novas begin to open up, to prick behind Sirius' eyelids, bright and colorful and terrible. Then there are no stars at all; black holes open and close, mouths gaping, swallowing. Entire planets, solar systems, existences disappear in one final riot of color, blues, yellows, greens, reds, all of them sucked into nothingness.

Finally, Sirius gets swallowed, too, opening his eyes to the stark whiteness of oblivion.

*

He's been here for days, strapped down to a gurney, poked, prodded and examined, and it's breaking Rose's heart, just a little. She's almost positive he's human, skin and flesh and blood just like her, and though he doesn't show any outward signs of pain at the doctor's tests, his eyes flicker behind his eyelids, so Rose knows he's feeling something. What it is, she doesn't know.

He just appeared, this man who is too skinny for his own good, his face hollowed out underneath his cheekbones. He showed up in the middle of an old department store down in the middle of London, prone and unconscious on the floor of the women's department, a long stick made of oak in his hand. Store security had alerted Torchwood itself, the chief guard one of Rose's own contacts. That's probably the only reason Rose is aware of the situation at all; Rose is quite high in the ranks of Torchwood, but this still isn't exactly her area, and she knows no one else in her department is aware of the stranger down on level twelve.

Rose has been hovering, she knows, and Mickey's been teasing her, calling her a mother chicken, though it's Mickey who has been more like the mother chicken, clucking at Rose and following her every move. She knows he's just worried about her, so she tolerates his behavior, even as his face is dark and distrustful of this new stranger. Mickey knows what Rose is thinking, what she's hoping, more like it, and she thinks he's more distrustful of _that_ than the man hooked up to machines and restrained on the bed.

Rose and Mickey are still there when the man wakes up. They've been casually bickering back and forth. She's been teasing him about Jake, and he's been suitably indignant, though even Rose isn't certain how much of the mild outrage is for show and how much of it is real.

The man's eyes open. Rose notices right away, and comes to hover above his face. His eyes are grey, misty from the tears that are rising due to the bright lights in the room. He seems to be taking Rose and Mickey in, though he hasn't said anything – or can't, Rose isn't sure which. His right hand jerks against the restraint at his wrist, but he doesn't struggle or try to pull free.

"Oh, hello," Rose says, and smiles.

Mickey objects, of course. "Don't get too close, Rose. Blood tests aren't finished yet. We aren't sure _what_ he is."

The man tries to speak now, though mostly what Rose hears is a whispered "w" sound.

"That some sort of alien?" Mickey asks.

A bit exasperated, Rose stops studying the stranger and turns to Mickey. "None that I ever heard of. Mickey, I really think he's human."

The stranger's chest rises and falls with a large breath. "Fell. Fell through an archway . . . a veil." He stops, breath shuddering. Rose reaches over, touches his cheek. "I have to get back. To Harry." He stops again.

"Mickey, he's from London!" Rose says, the excitement evident in her voice.

The man wheezes out another breath, and closes his eyes.

*

When Sirius opens his eyes again, the Rose girl is sitting on his bed. It's a real bed this time, and there are no bright lights or small beeping noises in the background. He takes a moment to look around, though the room is spare – just the bed, a small dresser, and one chair that the Mickey bloke is sitting in.

When she sees his eyes open, Rose smiles again, all warmth. Sirius has always preferred blokes, to be sure, and he doesn't find Rose particularly attractive, even for a woman – her hair is bottle blonde, roots showing on the top of her head, and her hips are too large and round for his taste (probably the bloke preference rearing up again, though). But Sirius has gotten to know how to read people, and he can tell Rose is, if nothing else, genuine. His head relaxes into the pillow just a little more because of this, in spite of himself.

She's excited, too, Sirius can tell, blood thrumming and singing through her veins like, well, like magic. "'Lo," Sirius manages.

"Hello." Rose smiles even wider, and it's infectious – Sirius almost smiles back. "I'm Rose Tyler."

"Black," Sirius answers.

Rose's eyebrows furrow together, just for a moment. "Is that your first or last name?"

"Sirius," he tries again, too confused and tired to try to parcel out what difference it might make to Rose.

"So, you're from London, then?"

Sirius, who knows the Blacks have been from London since before the Romans even found the damp little island, nods. He doesn't see what the fuss is about.

"The other London, I mean. The one I'm really from."

Rose's attempts at clarification have only left Sirius more confused. He scrubs at his face, bony knuckles catching on his eyelids. "I don't know what you mean."

"No, I suppose you don't," Rose acknowledges. "Well. I've got some food if you're hungry. Not much, just toast and tea – you've been hooked up to those IVs for days. If you feel like you can eat, that is."

Sirius nods. He's not really hungry, but he is dry, as if his whole body is a desert.

Rose rises off the bed, though Mickey stays seated. Suddenly, she clasps Sirius' hand in hers, sending little running rivulets of warmth down into Sirius' fingers. "All right," she says. "I'll bring you a tray, and we can talk. I have this idea. I think. Well, I think we're from the same place. And I don't know if it's possible, but. I don't know if it's possible to get back, but, well. There's something I never got to do."

At that, Sirius looks up, into her eyes, and finally sees that her smile doesn't quite reach them.

*

Rose brings back a tray of tea and toast, just as advertised. Mercifully, she and Mickey are quiet while Sirius eats cautiously and slurps his tea.

"Good for the synapses, tea," Rose finally ventures, and though Mickey rolls his eyes, Sirius notes amusement in his face all the same.

Rose takes the tray when he's done and sets it on top of the dresser, filling the teacup one last time and handing it to Sirius. She sits back on his bed, the mattress dipping underneath her weight. To Sirius' surprise and confusion, she pulls something out of the back pocket of her trousers. They're glasses. Well, not proper spectacles, but more like the paper and plastic ones that they used to use sometimes when Lily took them to the Muggle cinema. Sirius has to think for a moment before he can remember what Evans used to call them – 3D glasses, he thinks.

To Sirius' mild surprise, Rose puts the glasses on and peers at him closely. Suddenly she laughs and claps her hands, almost like a little girl, and it startles Sirius, causing him to lean back.

"Sorry. Sorry," Rose says, though by her tone, Sirius can tell she really isn't sorry at all. "See, Mickey," she says, calling her companion over. "Come look. He has the residue, see."

Mickey does come over, taking the glasses Rose offers to him. He puts them on, too, and moves his face right near Sirius, looking him over from tip to toe. "Huh," he grunts, before handing the glasses back over to Rose. "Well. Isn't that interesting?" Somehow Mickey manages to look skeptical and convinced at the same time.

Sirius remains silent.

"We were just looking. Well. We were looking for this – residue," Rose says to Sirius, as if that explains anything to him. "Like dust, sort of. Here," she says abruptly, putting the paper glasses on Sirius' face before he can stop her.

Everything looks green in them, or yellow, but once he focuses, Sirius can see what Rose means. There are particles dancing around both Mickey and Rose, and when Rose gently sways from side to side, the particles follow her. Sirius would almost think that these glasses detect magic, but he is certain these people are not wizards.

Sirius takes the glasses off and says, "So?"

"So," Rose takes a deep breath. "So – only people who have traveled trans-dimensionally, that is, from one universe or dimension to another, carry that residue. Which means – you had to have come from another world."

Sirius blinks.

Mickey turns to look at Rose, grinning lopsidedly. "Maybe you should start over, Rose," he says.

And so, she does.

*

For people who have no concept or inkling of the magical world, Sirius thinks later, they certainly believe in almost everything _else_. Aliens, Doctors and the TARDIS, travel through time and space, different dimensions and alternate realities, alien cultures and weapons and technology.

Sirius tries very hard not to gape. He's tempted not to believe them, but then thinks of his own existence, of werewolves and spells, transfigurations and conjuring, and he mentally shrugs, thinking that it's amazing how much Muggles can know or do. If the wizarding world had any idea, any inklings of these things, it might really fold in on itself, he thinks, lock itself away from the rest of the world, as it already tends to do when threatened or frightened, and he silently muses that it's probably better they don't know. Then he thinks of this power in Voldemort's hands, and he struggles not to lose his toast.

Rose is looking at him nervously, Mickey doing the same, though with a little more menace, as if he expects Sirius to lash out or bolt for the door any second. Instead, Sirius mulls things over for a moment, and then sighs.

"How much do you know about magic?" he asks.

"Like card tricks or water escapes?" Mickey says.

Sirius squints at him. "Not exactly," he says. "Actually, not at all."

Mickey and Rose exchange a glance. This time it's Rose who says, "Maybe you should start over."

So Sirius, his fingers itching for his wand, does.

*

Mickey is pacing the small room, and Sirius, already tired, is leaning back against the pillows, eyes closed. He can feel Rose's weight still on the bed, the sheets now warm from where she's been sitting. Mickey unconsciously sighs every twenty paces or so, which is starting to drive Sirius slightly mad.

Abruptly Mickey stops. "Prove it."

Sirius opens his eyes. Rose is glaring at Mickey reprovingly. "I. Well, I really need my wand for that."

"Your wand? That stick of oak they found on you?" Rose asks.

Sirius winces to hear his wand called a mere stick of oak, but he nods. "Yes."

"Can't you do something without a wand? What kind of wizard can't do something without a wand?" Mickey asks.

"I _can_ do wandless magic. It's just more complicated and I. Well, I'm exhausted." He doesn't add his next thought: _And James was always much better at it than I was._

Rose's face softens with something akin to pity, though Sirius, when in a more charitable mood, might be likely to call it compassion. Mickey, however, remains resolute.

"Do either of you have a pencil?" Sirius asks.

Mickey produces a ballpoint pen from his pocket and hands it to Sirius.

"That'll do," Sirius says, placing the pen next to him on the bed instead of in his hand. He starts to mutter the incantation, belatedly hoping that magic exists in this world as it does in his own. Suddenly the pen turns into a gum drop, and Sirius breathes out with relief and, to a certain measure, joy.

Rose suddenly laughs.

"It's not a party trick," Sirius snaps. He can see he's stung Rose by the way she leans back, and he's sorry, but it's true – magic is much more important than parlor games. Mickey's face darkens, and Sirius makes an effort not to care.

"We'll get your wand back," Rose says quietly, stepping off the bed.

Sirius merely closes his eyes again. Eventually he hears Rose leaving the room, Mickey following some time later. When they're both gone Sirius sleeps again, this time without dreaming.

*

It's morning when Rose appears again. Sirius assumes it's the next morning, though there's no real reason it hasn't been five or six days since he's last seen her, from what Sirius can tell. Rose is wearing different clothes; she's dressed much more casually, jeans, a shirt and a hooded sweatshirt covering her body. She's carrying a small package, which she drops onto Sirius' bed.

"There's clothes in there. Not much, just pants, jeans and a t-shirt. But it's necessary if you're going to be able to get around."

"Where are we going?" Sirius asks, not questioning the clothing, pulling off the dotted medical scrub-shirt he has been wearing and ducking his head into the black cotton t-shirt Rose brought for him.

"I've been able to get you released," Rose says.

Sirius looks up.

"It was a fine bit of work, too; the higher-ups didn't want to let you go even if you are human. Just appearing out of nowhere isn't normal in their rulebook." At this, Rose quirks a smile. "Mine, either, really, but I wasn't about to tell them what you told me. Too much trouble already."

Sirius nods, translating "too much trouble already" as "I still need you so maybe someday you'll return the favor." He's not sure if that's entirely fair to Rose or not, but it's true, so he lets the comment pass by without remarking on it.

"I was able to convince them that you hadn't just appeared – that your story was that you'd passed out on the floor, and no one had noticed you yet," Rose adds.

"So I'm a drunk," Sirius says. It's a truer statement than it used to be, and Sirius ducks his head.

Rose shrugs. "Better than being a wizard they'll want to drug and test for a few more weeks."

Sirius looks up again, measuring. Rose, though young, is shrewder than he had thought, and he files that away for future reference. The kid might not be in over her head after all.

Rose raises an eyebrow, as if she can read his thoughts. Then she smiles again, and reminds Sirius just how young she is. "I'll wait outside until you're ready," she says.

Three minutes and two wobbly legs later, Sirius is ready. He opens the door to his small room to find Rose waiting for him as promised. She hands him a wallet which he opens to examine. Inside there's Muggle money, a few hundred pounds from the looks of it – Sirius was never that good with Muggle money – a pass for the London underground, and a dummy driver's license with Sirius' name and picture, but with a fake birthday and address. Sirius palms the wallet into his pocket.

"Standard Torchwood issue," Rose says, beginning to lead Sirius down a well-lit though institutional hallway. "You'll need it."

Sirius acknowledges the truth of this; he literally has nothing. He's been in that position before, and he knows how to take care of himself, but he won't let Rose know that, not yet. This is a different world, after all. This way is easier.

But it does remind Sirius of one vital fact. "Where's my wand?"

Rose makes a face. "That's where we're going, actually. The brains up in the Tech department don't want to let it go yet."

"I can't leave without it," Sirius says as he and Rose approach the entrance to a lift. Rose presses the up button.

"I guessed as much," Rose replies. "I know someone in Tech; she might help us. Mickey's up there now."

At the mention of Mickey, Sirius must have made a face without knowing it, because Rose laughs. Sirius looks at her. "You just remind me of someone, that's all," she says.

The doors to the lift open, and Sirius and Rose step inside. "Your Doctor?" Sirius asks.

"Yes," Rose says simply, and the lift doors shut.

*

After a long ride up the lift – they had to have gone up almost a hundred floors, easy, Sirius thinks – Sirius and Rose step out of the lift onto a bright, sterile floor filled with cubicles.

"Welcome to the low-level grunt section of Torchwood's Alien and Unknown Origin Technology floor," Rose says, sweeping her arm to encompass the view in front of her. Rose starts to walk, Sirius following, many of the people sitting in cubicles waving or shouting greetings to Rose. Seeing the advantage of being with a friendly and popular person, Sirius does his best to relax and fit in, nodding when appropriate. It's an effort.

Finally Rose takes a right turn and stops at the second cubicle on the left. Mickey's there, all right, chatting with a girl that looks to be about their own age, maybe a bit older, with long blonde hair. Mickey waves to Rose, and the other girl turns around to acknowledge her new visitors.

When she does, Sirius gasps. He's only seen the girl a couple of times, usually in pictures or through Harry's descriptions, but he did see her for an extended time, just once – in the Department of Mysteries. "Luna Lovegood," he says before he can stop himself.

Luna's wearing cabbage earrings, not radishes, but they dangle all the same as she shakes her head and smiles. "That's right," she says brightly. "At your service."

Both Rose and Mickey are staring at Sirius. "I -- I know her. Knew her." Sirius shakes his head.

Luna smiles benignly. "Have we met?" she asks.

"Not here," Sirius answers.

At that, Rose steps in. "Luna, we were hoping you can do us a favor."

Luna stops looking at Sirius, though reluctantly, turning her gaze to Rose. "Whatever I can do Rose," she says.

"Sirius here, well, he has some personal property that Tech is insisting on keeping, even though he's been discharged. We were wondering if you could get it freed for us," Rose explains.

Luna looks back at Sirius, and then at Rose and Mickey in turn. "I can try," she says brightly. "It's not a nestral catcher, is it? Because those are strictly under quarantine right now. Not that that's not absurd, but there's only so much I can do."

Mickey shakes his head. "No, it's not that. It's." He pauses. "It's, well, it's a stick. A long piece of wood."

"Oh!" Luna's whole face lights up. "You mean this!" Luna spins around in her chair and opens the top right hand drawer of her desk, taking out Sirius' wand.

"Yes, that's it," Rose smiles widely. "Do you think you can get it released to us?"

"Well, sure," Luna says slowly, twirling the wand in her fingers. "Is it yours?" she asks Sirius.

"Yes," Sirius answers.

"Are you – " Luna stops, looks around, and then lowers her voice. "A wizard?"

"Yes," Sirius says again, whispering, too.

"Oh. Well. Okay. If it's your wand, I can certainly release it to you. 11", oak, unicorn tail, am I right?" Luna is still whispering.

"That's right," Sirius says. He doesn't know, actually, but if Luna says so; Remus had picked it up for him on the black market, and at the time Sirius didn't ask too many questions. He hadn't had a wand in 14 years, and it had worked, so he hadn't cared.

"Well, I can give it to you, but I will have to file a report for my boss," Luna says.

"That could be a problem," Rose says in a regular voice, startling both Luna and Sirius, who were still conversing in a whisper. "I don't think Davis is going to be happy about us taking tech he still wants cataloged."

Luna laughs, her voice a melody, and shakes her head. "Not Davis." She waves her hand dismissively. "I can deal with him, no problem." Luna lowers her voice again. "I mean my _real_ boss."

Mickey and Rose look puzzled, but Sirius finally catches on. "You're a plant for the Ministry."

Luna nods, cabbages dancing.

Sirius shakes his head. "I should have known they'd have someone here."

"What's the Ministry?" Rose asks.

"It's like, well, it's like our government," Luna says. "Like the Prime Minister's office."

"So you're – one of them, too," Mickey waves a hand to encompass Luna and Sirius.

"Oh, I'm a witch, yes," Luna admits cheerfully.

"Unbelievable," Mickey says ruefully, shaking his head.

"Why?" Luna asks, genuinely puzzled.

"Nothin'," Mickey answers, still shaking his head.

"So you have to report to your boss?" Rose steers the conversation back to the matter at hand.

"Yes, but that shouldn't take long," Luna assures, handing Sirius his wand for good measure. Sirius' fingers tingle underneath the wood. "Oh, wait. Are you that bloke they found in the store?" Luna asks.

Rose immediately looks suspicious, but Sirius nods.

"Right. Well, that mess makes a lot more sense now," Luna says. "Sort of. Anyway, I'll write this right up and email it over, and then you'll be set."

Mickey and Rose both nod, but Sirius frowns. "E-mail?"

"Oh, yes. Our new Minister is quite modern. Computers, wireless, mobiles. It's very efficient," Luna smiles.

"Can't be Fudge, then," Sirius mutters, twirling his wand between his fingers.

"Fudge?" Luna spins around in her chair, pulls up an email interface, and starts typing. "Oh, him. He tried running for Minister in 1990, got defeated. Haven't heard from him since."

"So what crooked wizard did they get for the job on this side, then?" Sirius asks. He doesn't really care, per se, except that it might turn out useful when he and Rose start to make plans in earnest regarding the Veil.

Luna keeps on typing. "Oh, Mr. Potter is quite lovely, really. Not crooked at all. He's very honest."

Sirius doesn't even feel his knees buckle, doesn't know he's headed toward the floor until Mickey moves suddenly to prop him up and Rose catches his arm.

"Who?" Sirius manages to get out, leaning on Roses' arm to stay upright.

Luna spins back around in her chair, a look of concern on her face. "James Potter. He's been Minister now for eight months. Wonderful influence."

Luna's computer monitor reflects Sirius' ashen face. "But James." Sirius can barely say the name. "James is dead."

Mickey and Rose exchange a serious look.

"Gingerbread house," Mickey says.

Rose squeezes Sirius' arm until he looks at her. "Not everything is going to be what you hope for," she says gently, looking into his eyes. "Maybe nothing will be."

*

Luna is their guide to the Ministry. Having heard the story from Sirius and Rose, she seems amazingly unaffected, breezing through the situation as if men from other dimensions fell through the sky every day.

The four of them take the tube, getting off after only two or three stops. Sirius is too distracted to count, scenarios running non-stop through his mind. Rose looks calm, but underneath the surface he can feel her vibrating, and it's not from excitement. She seems nervous for him, even sad. Mickey is uncharacteristically quiet, letting Luna chatter to him about the nestral lock-down and how unfair it is.

To Sirius' surprise, they are still in downtown London, standing outside a modern high rise, all reflective glass and sun beaming off the mirrors. He turns to Luna.

"How do we get in?" he asks.

Luna looks at him and takes her own wand out of her skirt pocket. "Through the front door, of course."

That is exactly what they do. They walk up the steps, open the doors, and walk right in, getting a nod from a security guard who looks suspiciously like the younger Crabbe to Sirius.

After a brief stop at the front desk, where Luna flashes her badge and gets visitor passes out of the good-natured elf at the desk, the party of four heads past the ornate sculpture of the magical races (Sirius reflecting that at least some things don't change) and onto the lift, where memo notes flutter around their heads as they make their way to the 36th floor.

The group is silent, Rose looking in wonder at the flying memos, Mickey batting at a couple of memos to the Aurors that keep getting too close to his ears. Luna is perfectly serene, looking as if she makes this trip every day, and she probably does.

Sirius, meanwhile, is waging war with himself. He is dangerously aware of how shattering this could be for him, how hard it might be for him to put back jagged pieces that no longer fit together, but he can't stop himself. It's _James_. The last time he saw James was dead in his own house, spectacles twisted around a cut on his forehead, still bleeding even though his heart had stopped pumping, eyes brown and clear and open, blank and unfeeling. Sirius shudders at the memory, squeezing his eyes shut not only to rid himself of the image, but to stop the tears that are suddenly forming. He opens his eyes only as the lift pings their arrival at floor 36. Rose is watching him closely, and he scowls, as if her perception is too acute. She can't know all of his secrets.

Luna steps out first, gliding up to an ornate cedar desk that is the only furniture on the floor besides five plush chairs set up for waiting guests. There's a young woman behind the desk, probably just out of Hogwarts from the look of her, and Luna smiles. "We're here to see Minister Potter on urgent business," Luna says loudly. Then, lowering her voice, "It's about that Torchwood project, you know."

"Yes, right away Miss Lovegood," the girl says, rising from the desk. "The Minister is waiting for you." She walks to a large oak door in the center of the wall and pushes it open, stepping inside. There's muffled conversation before she steps out again.

"Of course. The Minister will see you now," the secretary says, opening the door wider in order to allow Luna's party entrance.

"On second thought, I think my friend here would like to go first," Luna says, gesturing Sirius forward. Rose looks about to object, and Mickey radiates disapproval like a supernova, but Luna looks unfazed.

"If that's what he wishes," James' secretary says, keeping the door open.

Honestly, Sirius isn't sure that's what he wishes at all, but he goes, his feet propelling him forward of their own accord. He enters the inner office, and is just barely aware of the door closing behind him.

It takes James – this James – a moment to look up from his work. He's writing by hand, scribbling furiously on a piece of paper before he folds it carefully; he picks up his wand and says the incantation and the memo flies off, dodging Sirius and going out via the fireplace.

Finally James looks at him, a polite if slightly uninterested look his face, and asks, "May I help you?"

It takes Sirius a moment to realize that James does not recognize him, and he flushes with shame. He's known that Azkaban took its toll on him; shaped his body as well as his mind, but he's never known like _this_ before. In his world, Harry hadn't remembered what he'd looked like before, and of those who did, only Remus had been in a position to care, and he hadn't. Suddenly Sirius is now acutely and painfully aware of how wrinkled he is around his eyes, how pocked and craggy the surface of his face is. His whole body is hollow, a shell of its former self, cheeks sunken in his face like a skull, ribcage bony and sticking out, his hair longer and more unkempt than it had ever been when he was younger. His clothes, casual items handed over by Rose, only accentuate the lines and sharp angles of his body, and Sirius almost turns to go when James' voice stops him.

"May I help you?" James asks again, this time a look of slight worry overtaking the polite interest on his face.

"I. I'm not sure. No. Yes," Sirius manages.

James looks vaguely amused now in addition to polite, and it sparks some nebulous anger inside of Sirius' chest. James motions to the chairs opposite his desk. "You're welcome to sit if you'd like."

"I'd rather stand," Sirius says. He knows it's a pointless show of stubbornness, but he's clinging to the anger inside of him like a lifeline.

"If you'd like," James says easily, taking his own seat behind the desk. James, Sirius notes, looks almost exactly the same as he did when he was twenty-one. He looks a bit older, more filled out, more mature, but other than that he's still tall, and lanky. His eyes are the same rich brown, and his smile still holds just a touch of mischief. Merlin bless him, Sirius notes that he even has the same style spectacles. They are clearly a different pair, but there they are, round and wire-rimmed, giving James a young and open look.

Sirius wishes that the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

"So you're the bloke Torchwood found at the Muggle store," James starts.

Sirius nods, fresh grief constricting his throat.

"Luna filed a very efficient report. It didn't say much about you, actually, but you did come to claim a wand, and it is a wand and you are a wizard, though, to be frank, my office has yet to be able to find a registration for that wand, and an unregistered wand is against our laws, as I'm sure you know." James voice is so smooth, so friendly, that it takes Sirius a moment to realize that James is _threatening_ him. Before Sirius can answer, James continues. "I'd love to know where you came from, if you don't mind sharing."

A storm of choices choke Sirius. He wants to say _Bellatrix stunned me, sent me falling through the Veil in the Department of Mysteries_. _I don't know how I got here, in a different universe, fifteen years into the future_. _I was trying to protect Harry, Voldemort was after him again, and he was in mortal danger, him and all of his friends, and I was just --_. _It was selfish, I hated being in that house and I was stupid enough to think a battle would be exciting_.

"Prongs –" is all he manages.

Unexpectedly, James' face goes white, then flushes. "No one calls me that. No one _has_ called me that." James stops. "Who are you?"

"I'm Padfoot," Sirius says.

James' face goes dark, and for the first time in ages, Sirius remembers what a powerful wizard James really was. "Sirius Black is dead."

At that, Sirius laughs, and even to his ears the series of short barks sounds hysterical.

"Not where I come from," Sirius says.

"And where is that, exactly?" James asks.

"The other side."

*

By the time Sirius finishes telling his story, Rose has stuck her head in, helping James' secretary bring in a pot of tea and several cups on a tray. Mickey and Luna remain in the waiting room, thumbing through old copies of _The Daily Prophet_ and _The Quibbler_.

Sirius is sitting now, his shaking legs no longer able to support him, the trembling in his hands making it impossible to hold a cup of tea.

James looks white himself, and Rose sits in the office, remembering what it was like to see her own father, who wasn't her father, alive.

Finally Sirius asks, "How did I die?"

"During the war. In the very last stages. Snape and Regulus were about to bring us the final horcrux, and we diverted the Death Eaters into an ambush on The Leaky Cauldron so they could escape. You were there. Malfoy – " James trails off, rubbing a hand over his face. "I wasn't there; I've always hated myself for that. If I had been there – "

"He'd probably still be dead," Rose says softly, a truth neither man can say aloud.

Sirius softens. "You had Lily, Harry – I would never have begrudged you that. I never did."

James nods, but doesn't say anything.

"Lily," Sirius ventures.

James looks up, and both Rose and Sirius watch his face brighten instantly. "Charms Professor at Hogwarts. We keep a house here in London; she apparates back and forth every day."

Sirius can't bring himself to ask about Harry.

"She's been supportive of my political career, but she's still independent. Besides, Harry owns a house in Hogsmeade, so that way we can both be close to him. He's been playing professional Quidditch, but I think this will be his last season. Not that he's too old for it, really, he's just ready to move on. Settle down. Runes will be open at Hogwarts next year, and McGonagall will probably appoint him if he shows an interest. Olivia's been teaching elementary skills and magic around England for years, and I think she'd like to start a family."

Sirius blinks. "Olivia?"

"Olivia Longbottom, Neville's younger sister. They've been married, well, going on five years now. Nice girl." James smiles indulgently, paternally, and for the first time since his arrival Sirius feels like he's a million miles from home.

"Oh," Sirius manages. He thinks of the Harry in his world, the thin boy who grew up with the Dursleys hidden in a cupboard, the one who never knew James and Lily, the one who has been battling Voldemort since infancy. He wants to kill Peter Pettigrew all over again, thinking Azkaban a small price to pay.

"Your . . . Harry . . ." James trails off, but Sirius knows what he's asking.

Sirius can't bring himself to give an honest answer. "Well. He's well – the last time I saw him." When he thinks that it might now be fifteen years in the parallel future, too, all he can do is wish that Harry is even alive.

James nods, not pushing the issue. And why should he, Sirius thinks. His Harry is happy and safe and all of the things a parent could hope for.

Rose looks like she's about to say something, but the clock on James' desk suddenly chimes three high notes. James glances at the clock, smiles. "Lily's home," he says, turning the clock around so that Rose and Sirius can see the different arrows pointing to different people and places. Both "Lily" and "Home" are lit up by a bright green hand of the clock.

When Sirius doesn't speak, Rose places a hand over his. Normally Sirius would balk at the touch, afraid and resentful, but instead he lets Rose's hand rest there.

"Maybe we should go meet her," Rose suggests, and James smiles.

*

Rose and Lily are in the kitchen as Rose hangs up her mobile and goes to wash her hands so she can help Lily with the salad.

"Your mum okay?" Lily asks. Rose flushes slightly, realizing she must have been louder and more open on the phone than she had anticipated. Lily takes a fresh cucumber and begins to slice it.

Rose nods. "Yeah. She knows I'll be home later. I just have to call in time to wish Rachel goodnight." Rose starts slicing cherry tomatoes carefully. She's not much of a cook, honestly, but she can at least do this. The men are setting the table in the dining room; Luna's gone home to meet Ginny Weasley for supper.

"Rachel?"

"My little sister." Rose smiles.

"Much littler, I take it," Lily says.

Rose nods. "She's four. My parents didn't." Rose pauses. "Well, until the worlds started to collide, my parents were separated."

Lily doesn't say anything, just listens, giving Rose the opportunity to either continue or keep her story to herself.

"In my world, my dad. Well, my dad was dead. Died when I was a baby." Rose throws the sliced tomatoes into the wooden bowl. "In this world, at first both my parents were alive, and then. Well, my mum died."

"The Cybermen took a lot of good people," Lily says, softly.

"Your people knew about that?"

Lily nods. "Scared the hell out of us, it did. It's how we got involved in knowing about Torchwood and those parts of Muggle life. Many wizards joined the resistance, fought the Cybermen. I even think one of us helped develop the device that let the resistance jump between dimensions."

"Those huge buttons?"

"Those," Lily agrees. "Ugly as sin, but got the job done. Bill Weasley designed those things, and I always thought he had a wicked sense of humor."

"Then, when the gap between worlds shut, my mum came here to be with my dad, and I . . . I got stuck."

Lily looks sideways at Rose. "You still want to go back."

Rose nods.

"Even with your family here."

Rose ducks her head, determined not to show tears.

"And you think Sirius might be able to help you." Lily pauses. "That Doctor must be pretty special."

Rose looks up. "Very special."

"Well," Lily says, wiping her hands on a tea towel, "I know what it's like to be caught, have to choose between two worlds. I chose the magic, too."

Lily takes the bowl gently from Rose's hands. "Let's go eat."

 

*

It's not until dessert that Lily finally brings it up, and Sirius isn't surprised. Of all the things that are different in this world, it's Lily who is among the most unchanged. She's still as smart, perceptive and sharp as ever, and Sirius finds that comforting.

"You haven't asked about Remus," Lily mentions, stirring more sugar into her tea.

"Lily," James starts, but stops when Lily looks at him.

Sirius uses his fork to fiddle with the cake on his plate. "I thought. I'm not. I'm not sure I want to know."

"I'm not sure he needs to know," James says sharply, more steel in his voice than Sirius has heard yet.

Lily just looks at James until his face loses its sharpness.

Sirius drops his head. "In this world . . ."

"You loved each other," Lily answers. Sirius sighs. "I take it you do in your world, too." Sirius has told them as much of his story as he can manage; it's no surprise to him that Lily can fill in the details he glossed over.

Sirius shakes his head, though, surprising Rose, who is sitting across from him. "We. Well, as boys we loved each other. As men." He stops. "Well, I'm not sure what we were as men."

Rose, even now, can fill in the rest. She's not quite sure what wizarding prison is like, but from the things discussed this day, she's quite sure she doesn't want to know.

Sirius looks up. "Is he dead?"

Lily bites her lip, and James' voice quivers when he says, "No."

"Then – " Sirius asks, and everyone present can see the hope, and the excitement, there. Rose feels it flutter in her own chest for just a second before she sees the look on Lily's face.

"That last year, we decided to use the Fidelius," Lily starts, slowly. Sirius nods. "We were going to use you as Secret Keeper, or Dumbledore, but you had a plan at the last second."

Sirius' face goes grey, and even Mickey looks uncomfortable, knowing what comes next in Sirius' world.

"But. We didn't use Peter. Not here," Lily continues. "You thought, suspected Remus of being the spy. If we used him as the Secret Keeper, he'd almost certainly tell Voldemort right away. But then we'd know for sure who was betraying us."

"He wasn't?" Sirius asks, those two words sounding like they've been dragged from his throat.

It is James who answers. "No. That particular honor still goes to Peter Pettigrew."

"But we did make Remus the Secret Keeper, as a trap. That Halloween, almost the entire Order was set up near Godric's Hollow, waiting for Voldemort's attack. We'd destroyed five of the six horcruxes by that time, and were certain we'd find the last one soon."

"What happened?" It's Rose, this time, who asks.

"Nothing," Lily answers. "Absolutely nothing. Remus didn't sell us out, of course, because he wasn't the spy. Peter didn't know yet where we were, exactly. It turned out to be. Well, it saved our lives, mine, James' and Harry's. We got the sixth horcrux and destroyed it, and then Dumbledore was able to defeat Voldemort for good, even though his own injuries ended up killing him a few years later."

"So then, Remus . . ." Sirius trails off as he slowly loses all color in his face.

"The Death Eaters found Remus, figured out he was the Secret Keeper. We think Peter _did_ manage to figure that out and tell them. They." Lily stops.

"He never betrayed us, Sirius. He wouldn't," James adds.

Rose and Mickey look at each other, confused, though it's clear that the others at the table, even Sirius, know what's going on.

" _Crucio_ ," Sirius says, one word, just one.

Lily nods slowly, reaching next to her to take Sirius' hand. He lets her. "They tortured him into madness, but he never told them where we were."

"He's in St. Mungo's," James adds, his voice breaking with what Rose can recognize as grief. "We visit, three, four times a week, but. He doesn't know who we are. Who Harry is."

"He still transforms?" Sirius asks, and Rose is surprised he can find his voice to ask a question. Even Mickey is staring at his plate, his mouth set.

"In a cage," Lily says, and Sirius winces. "The Wolfsbane allows him to keep his mind, but. Well, he's actually very docile."

"When you. When you went to the Leaky Cauldron. Well. We always thought a part of you didn't care if you lived or died," James adds.

"I wouldn't have abandoned you on purpose. Or Harry!" Sirius nearly shouts, but Rose can hear the denial in his voice.

"Not on purpose, maybe," Lily says gently, leaning over to rest her head on one of Sirius' shoulders while James clasps the other with his hand.

At the end of the night, Rose goes home to her family as Sirius stays with the Potters; Mickey goes back to his flat.

 

*

 

Rose comes down to breakfast little worse for the wear the next morning. She's meeting Sirius, Mickey and the Potters at the Department of Mysteries near lunchtime, but until then she has the Saturday morning to herself.

Her mum is cooking breakfast. Scrambled eggs are piling up on the plate on the counter, and bacon, crisp and fresh on the sideboard, also sizzles in the pan. Rose nicks a piece of bacon from the sideboard and sits at the table between her dad and Rachel. Pete is reading the paper, Rachel working on coloring in a picture. Rose pours some coffee and looks over at Rachel's drawing.

"That's nice," Rose comments, smiling. Rachel, all brown hair and big blue eyes, looks up and grins, pleased.

"It's our house," Rachel explains, pointing to dots of pink. "Those are the tulips, that's the sun."

"It's brilliant," Rose agrees. "Can I have it for my room?"

"Sure!" her sister says. "I just have to finish the chimney and then it's all yours."

"Perfect," Rose says, seeing her dad smile out of the corner of her eye.

"Gonna take it with you?" Jackie asks, setting the plates of bacon and eggs on the table.

"Mum?" Rose asks, seeing Rachel look up.

"When that bloke who landed in the shop goes back, and you go with him, you gonna take Rachel's picture with you?"

"Mum!" Rose exclaims, setting her coffee down with a splash.

Pete calmly folds his paper and sets it on the table. He addresses his young daughter, who is staring wide-eyed at her mother and sister. "Rachel, why don't you take your drawing and finish it in your room? You've already had your fill of toast and jam."

"Dad –" Rachel starts to protest, but a look from Pete and her mouth closes. With one last look at her mum she walks out of the room, feet thumping on the stairs.

"Now then," Pete starts, but Rose cuts him off.

"How do you even know about that?" Rose asks, getting up from the table and storming to the refrigerator, hand poised to throw it open.

"Jake and Mickey came round this morning –"

"Mickey! I should have known he couldn't keep his mouth shut!" Rose exclaims, fishing the milk out of the fridge with a vengeance.

"Now don't blame Mickey, Rose, he was only trying to help."

"Trying to meddle, more like it," Rose starts, but this time Pete succeeds in getting a word in between the two women.

"As I was saying, Jackie, there's no reason to get ahead of ourselves. We don't even know if this bloke knows the way back. If there _is_ a way back."

"There is," Rose says stubbornly, and the first time she says it aloud is the first time she realizes just how much she thinks it's true.

"And so there you go, off again," Jackie starts. "Not a word to us, just disappear." Jackie stalks over to the stove, pours water for tea and then slams the kettle down.

"It's not like that this time," Rose says.

"No, it's not Rose. This time, you've got all of us. Me, Pete, your sister. Mickey. Are you really going to leave all of us to go God knows where?"

Rose can't bring herself to speak it, but they all know the answer.

"Is he really worth it Rose?" Jackie asks.

"Yes."

"He finds other companions, doesn't he? You weren't the first. He probably has someone else already. Probably had her for a long time now," Jackie says.

Rose's face goes very still. "I was different from the others; I'm different from anyone . . ."

"You think so? But he's not alone, is he? He's not alone, roaming the galaxy, and you know it, Rose! He's already found someone else, and he's traveling with her now. I would have protected you and that man until my dying day, but you didn't need me. _He_ doesn't need _you_. And you'd still leave us, leave all of us? For that? For nothing?"

Rose's voice shakes, but it's still understandable. "Yes."

Jackie sets her jaw and walks out of the kitchen, oblivious to Pete's call of, "Jacks," after her.

Rose sighs, and slams the heel of her hand on the counter.

"Do what you have to do, Rose, but don't do it lightly," Pete says quietly before leaving after his wife.

Rose lifts her head and looks in their wake, watching the door for a long time before looking down and moving her hair out of her eyes with one hand.

*

St. Mungo's is quiet this time of the morning. The nurses have just started their morning shifts, and they are softly bustling around, arranging charts, folders, and schedules. Sirius and James walk through the halls without interruption; no one bothers the Minister of Magic, especially as most of the staff knows the reason he is here, who he's visiting, and if they wonder about the dark haired man with him today, they don't speak of it in James' hearing.

They enter the Closed Ward, where several medi-witches and wizards nod politely to James. They briefly acknowledge Sirius as he and James walk the corridor. The walls are white, almost blindingly so, and there's an inescapable smell of antiseptic in the air. The ward is open for the most part, patients given a bit of privacy by thick curtains where appropriate.

But James continues to walk the hall until the very end, where a handful of private rooms are clustered. He stops outside one of the rooms, looks at Sirius. His gaze asks _are you sure_ , but he doesn't ask the question aloud, and Sirius respects James even more for that.

"I can wait, if you'd like," James says.

Sirius shakes his head. "I can find my own way out."

James manages not to look skeptical at this, and only nods. "I'll be in the Visitor's Lounge."

Sirius nods in acknowledgment, and James squeezes his arm briefly before turning around and walking back down the corridor. Sirius hesitates with his hand on the doorknob, just a bit, before turning the knob and entering the room.

Remus' room is quiet, and, Sirius finds with no surprise, quite pleasant. Lily's influence is everywhere; there are scores of plants, flowers, bulbs and magical herbs. The room is painted a soft, soothing yellow, unlike the stark white along the hallway and by the other beds. A bed, neatly made, with a thick down spread on top is nestled against one corner, and there are several windows. Bookshelves and books line two entire walls, though they are all perfectly in line, not jumbled or tipped or stacked like Sirius knows Remus keeps his books.

Remus is sitting by the largest window, to the right of the doorway. He doesn't even look up at the sound of a person entering the room. Instead, he continues to stare outside, looking at something Sirius can't see from his angle. Remus' hair is completely silver, though he looks younger than he does in Sirius' universe, even though he is, in fact, many years older. There are few lines in his face, just a bit of webbing around the corners of his mouth. He is dressed simply in khaki trousers and a brown jumper, his feet covered only with white socks. He's sitting a rocking chair, and the chair creaks slightly as Remus rocks back and forth. It's the only sound in the room.

"Remus?" Sirius ventures softly, almost afraid to break the serenity of the room.

Remus looks up, over at Sirius, but there is no recognition in his eyes.

"Is it time for supper already?" Remus asks.

Sirius shakes his head, walks over to where Remus is sitting. He kneels down, sits on his knees in front of Remus.

"Not yet. Not time for supper yet," Sirius says.

"Oh," Remus says. He goes back to rocking.

Sirius sits quietly for a moment, just watching Remus' gentle rocking motion. He reaches out a hand, lifting his palm up, letting his fingertips grace Remus' cheek before his palm cups Remus' jaw. Remus doesn't flinch or move away; his skin is warm and smooth, unscarred by the wolf and untouched by time. Remus' mouth doesn't twitch, the corner lifting up for Sirius to kiss; it doesn't frown, telling Sirius this is not the time for touch. Remus' face is unguarded. It is completely still. There's not a ripple under Sirius' hand that means Remus is tense, or a movement near Remus' ear that says he's cross with Sirius. There's no tightening of Remus' jaw, either in anger or exasperation or desire; there's no smile of invitation or affection or forgiveness.

"I am so sorry this happened to you, Moony," Sirius whispers.

"It's not time for supper yet," Remus replies.

Sirius smiles sadly, and, pulling Remus' head toward him, leans up and over and kisses Remus gently on the forehead. He pulls back and rests his head on Remus' knee. Remus goes back to rocking.

"No, not yet," Sirius agrees.

*

Rose is the last one to arrive at the Ministry that afternoon. Luna escorts her up to the top floor of the building, and they go through a series of doors before reaching the Department of Mysteries. They find the others in a large room full of steps, almost like bleachers, with a large archway on a dais in the middle of the floor. A flimsy piece of curtain attached to the arch sways as if in a breeze.

Jake and Mickey have already arrived and set up Torchwood standard equipment around the archway. Most of the dials and meters are dead still, but there's one making a slight whistling sound as the needle moves off the scale. The Potters and Sirius are standing on the other side of the Veil from Jake and Mickey, and Rose sees another man standing with them, young, just a bit older than her, if that. Probably Luna's age. Luna waves and the young man turns and waves back, so Rose has a better angle to see him clearly. When she does, she realizes belatedly that this is Harry Potter; he looks just like James, except with deliberate mistakes – a slightly different nose, Lily's green eyes. His smile is warm and friendly as Luna and Rose walk over.

Harry gives Luna a warm hug, and extends a hand to Rose. "Harry Potter. It's nice to meet you."

"Same here," Rose says, glancing briefly at Sirius. He looks grave, but not frightened, though his eyes are dark.

Rose turns to shout across at Jake and Mickey. "How's it going?"

"She shows up late and then starts shoutin' about progress," Mickey says, shaking his head.

"Needs to learn some manners, that one," Jake agrees.

Rose rolls her eyes and puts her hands on her hips. Mickey laughs.

"Okay, okay, we give. The Dimensional Rift Meter is going wild." Mickey points to the machine Rose noticed earlier, the one with the meter off the scale. "Definitely looks like something is up."

"But he didn't come out here," Rose says.

"No, but I have a theory on that," Luna says, and everyone turns to look at her.

"In Sirius' world, the Veil is probably in a different place. I mean, it's still in the Department of Mysteries, in the Ministry of Magic, but the actual location might be different."

"But then if he goes back through here, won't he end up in a different place in his world?" Rose asks.

Sirius shrugs. "Probably. But there, I could find my way around."

"And there's no Torchwood to interfere," Mickey adds.

"As far as we know. They could have rebuilt in the last four years." Rose steps over, looks at the reading on the machine.

"Maybe," Jake agrees.

"You all are talking like you're automatically going to go back." James comes up, stands beside Rose.

Rose and Sirius exchange glances. Mickey rises from where he's been examining equipment. "That's 'cause they are," he says, glaring at Rose before looking at the ground.

"Mickey," Rose and Jake say at the same time.

"But you don't know. You don't know if it will even work. Where the Veil could take you this time. It could take you back home, or to another alternate universe, or to death." James stops, looks at his wife.

"You don't have to go," Lily says to Sirius, though Rose knows Lily's including her, too.

Rose looks at Mickey and Jake, James and Lily, Harry and Luna. "No one's going anywhere just yet," she says before stepping up to the dais, her hand reaching out, gently grazing the curtain.

*

Rose finds Sirius sitting on the steps in front of the Veil. The others have gone down to James' office for a late lunch after agreeing to let the machines work on their own for a little while longer. Sirius had left shortly after barely touching a sandwich, but James and Lily had allowed him to go, knowing he might need some time away. When Rose started to feel like she needed to go, too, she went back upstairs.

Rose sits next to Sirius without saying a word. They sit in silence for a long time before Sirius finally says, "No one needs me here."

"That's not true," Rose answers.

Sirius laughs, and it's not necessarily a pleasant sound. "Lily and James have each other. They're happy, successful, loved. They have Harry, who is amazing. Happy. Whole." He pauses. "Remus. Remus doesn't need anyone, not anymore."

"It's not about being needed," Rose says.

"Isn't it?"

Rose clasps her hands, looks down, leaning her forehead on her fist. "He didn't have anyone. The Doctor. His whole world was gone. I was all he had; I had decided to stay with him, even when Mickey had come over. Even after my mum had decided to come over. That was my life." She pauses. "He needed me."

Sirius realizes Rose is crying by the sound of her voice, the small shaking of her shoulders.

"You needed him," Sirius adds, and Rose nods her head.

"I left everything for him. Just for a chance. And now I'm willing to do it all over again," Rose says. "Will do it all over again."

"I don't even have that," Sirius says quietly. "Harry. Harry might have needed me then, but now? What if it is 2010? He'd be thirty. If he's even still alive." Sirius pauses at the thought. "And Remus. Remus and I were trying, we really were. But I was – I am – so angry, so. Well, Azkaban did not do wonders for my temper, and Grimmauld Place did nothing for my state of mind. Sometimes I think he barely tolerated me. That he put up with me, was with me, out of habit, or some sense of duty, instead of out of love. You might have the Doctor, but what do I have to go back to?"

"The Doctor always moves on," Rose says.

"Everyone always moves on."

Rose looks up at him, eyes red from crying, cheeks stained with tears. "So where does that leave us?"

"Nowhere," Sirius answers.

*

It's cold in James' office. The air conditioner had been turned up when there had been many people crowded inside, but now that everyone has left, it is significantly cooler. Sirius walks in, feeling a burst of cold air float across his skin from a vent in the ceiling.

"Sirius Black, always doing the opposite of everyone else. People come down to eat, you stay up to think. People go up to think, you come down to eat," James says, rising from his place behind his desk.

"You were my brother, you know," Sirius says, ignoring James' remarks.

James stops, stands in front of him. "And you were mine."

"I never thought I'd see you again, not until I was dead, too. And maybe I am," Sirius goes on. "To you, I am."

"You were."

Sirius shakes his head. "The Sirius you knew is dead James, and you know it. I'm not him. I'm not even close to him. We both know that."

"That doesn't mean you don't matter to us."

Sirius nods.

"I'm not the James you knew, either."

At that, Sirius smiles. "You're closer than you think, Prongs."

Even behind the glasses, Sirius can see James' eyes start to tear up. "But you don't need me," Sirius adds.

James steps forward and embraces Sirius. "When you find Harry, tell him we love him."

"I will."

"And tell Remus. Tell him we miss him."

"I will," Sirius promises, and tightens his arms around James one last time.

*

When James and Sirius come back up to the Department of Mysteries, they find an even larger crowd than they expected; a blond woman and a red-haired man are talking to Rose, while a little girl stands at their feet, carefully fingering one of her braids. Sirius walks over to Harry and Luna and exchanges farewells before heading over to see Rose. He makes sure to hug Harry hard, in case he never sees any version of Harry ever again.

"It's my mum and dad, and my sister," Rose says by way of explanation when Sirius finally goes to find her.

The woman who must be Rose's mum turns around, looks Sirius up and down. "Sirius Black," she says scornfully.

Not sure what to do in the face of the woman's formidable anger, Sirius takes a step back. Jackie rolls her eyes and turns back to her daughter.

"See if you can still reach us by your mobile when you get there, all right?" she says.

"She's not flying to the States, Jackie," the man says.

Rose and Jackie both ignore him. "I will, Mum."

"And tell the Doctor that if he doesn't take care of you, alternate universe or not, I'll come over there and slap the daylights out of him."

"Yes, Mum."

"And you," Jackie says, turning on Sirius. "The same goes for you, too, you know."

"I've never been threatened by someone's mum before," Sirius says. Jackie glares at him. Sirius shrugs. "Makes for a change, I suppose."

Sirius moves away as Jackie hugs Rose tightly, letting Rose's family have their good-byes in private, though Sirius sees tears springing to Rose's eyes.

Lily is standing on the dais, the breeze that causes the curtain to sway ruffling her skirt just a bit. "They say you just have to go through," she greets Sirius.

Sirius shrugs again. "That's all I did the last time." He glances down at Rose, where Mickey and Jake are taking their turns hugging her, Rachel waiting for her last embrace.

"We'll miss you," Lily says softly.

"You already miss me," Sirius counters.

"True. But any Sirius Black is special." Lily smiles.

"You're okay, you know that, Evans?"

"I know," Lily says, reaching up and giving Sirius a kiss on the cheek.

Rose is coming up to the archway with a backpack strapped on as Lily pulls away. Lily and Rose embrace, and Sirius is just close enough to hear Lily say, "Always follow the magic, Rose," before she pulls away.

"I will," Rose says, before turning around and waving, then taking Sirius' hand.

Sirius is startled at the gesture, but he entwines his fingers with Rose's.

"Show me your moves," she says as Sirius leads her behind the Veil.

*

This, Sirius remembers. It's cold. Freezing in fact. There's no light this time, but there is warmth. It takes him a matter of moments, or minutes, or hours, or days, or years, perhaps, to realize that the warmth is coming from beside him, coming from his hand. He can't quite place why this is important, but he knows that it is.

The first thing he's aware of this time is a sneeze. It's light, and feminine. How a sneeze can be light and feminine, he's not sure, but this one is. With great care, Sirius rolls his head to the side. It's pounding, and he's afraid that if he moves it too far or too fast, it will break.

There's a woman next to him. She's young, and blonde, and she's holding his hand. He blinks before he recognizes her, flashes to the first time he saw her, much when he felt like this before.

"Rose?"

"My head hurts," she says, opening her eyes, but not looking at him.

"It's all okay." Sirius tries to soothe her.

She blinks. "Where are we?"

"I don't know." Sirius knows he should sit up, should look at their surroundings, figure out where they are, but it all seems like too much effort.

Rose's eyes are already slowly closing again. "Doesn't matter," Rose says. "Later."

"Later," Sirius agrees, and closes his eyes, giving into the pain and sleep.

*

Now there are stars. But they're not ordinary stars. They are huge, filling Sirius' vision with light and glory. He cannot contain them, they are so magnificent. They leave him breathless as they grow brighter and brighter, merging together until they form one giant, graceful entity.

Twin suns also fill the sky. Large and yellow, they run through their cycle, going from yellow to gold to orange to red right before Sirius' eyes. For some reason he finds this funny, and laughs.

The suns rise again, and this time they are moons. Big and bright and full, they fill the night sky, blotting out the stars and even the blackness of space. They burn Sirius, like flame, and he can smell the scents they leave on his charred skin, the smell of grass and fur and sand.

Again, Sirius wakes to the sound of a woman's voice. But it's an unfamiliar one; he knows it's not Rose's and he panics a little. He squeezes the fingers of one hand and feels nothing. He squeezes the fingers of the other, and feels warmth, which keeps the waves of panic at bay. His eyelids feel too heavy to open.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to people just appearing out of nowhere," the voice is saying.

A man's voice answers. London accent, much like Rose's. "Oh, come on, people don't just appear out of nowhere." There's a pause, a muttering from the woman that Sirius can't quite catch.

"We're here aren't we? Didn't the TARDIS pick up some kind of anomaly in the space-time continuum here?"

"Well, yes. But you know the old girl. She's temperamental sometimes." The man's voice is muffled, as if he's far away, though Sirius can tell he's not, not if he and the woman are bickering.

"Still, I'm pretty sure she didn't just conjure these two up. We've been parked here for days, running test after test, and then suddenly, here they are."

"They're probably homeless."

"And homeless people appear out of thin air, do they?"

"Maybe." The man seems to pause. "Out of then air, you say?"

"I was watching the lawn. One second they weren't there, the next, they are."

There's a loud clanking noise nearby. Soon after, the man says, "Don't worry. Perfectly harmless. Just calibrating the dimensional adapter."

Sirius hears the woman sigh.

Suddenly, the man's voice gets closer. "What did you say the name of this place is?"

"I didn't. It's just some new park they dedicated in the middle of London two months ago. Used to be some building here."

"Yes, yes, but what's the name?"

There's the sound of footsteps crunching grass near Sirius' head, then an answer. "Bad Wolf Commons. That's strange, isn't it?"

Abruptly, the man's voice is much closer, clearer, as if he'd finally gotten out of a box. "Maybe not so strange after all," he says, and even Sirius can hear the catch in his voice.

Footsteps pound across the grass, and it's as if Sirius can feel every pull of gravity, every broken blade of grass, every turn of the earth.

There's a larger drop, gravity working on a large object, and it's near him but not next to him. Sirius can feel that someone has knelt down next to Rose.

The woman's voice this time, startled, slightly worried. "Doctor? Doctor? What is it?"

 _Oh,_ Sirius thinks.

Hands are moving next to Sirius, he can feel them; next to him, but not on him, must be hovering over Rose. With a monumental effort, Sirius opens his heavy eyelids, fights against gravity itself to keep them open. He rolls his head and slants them a bit until he can see Rose, make sure she's there.

She is there, and Sirius was right about the movement, right about the fact that someone is hovering over Rose, fingers ghosting over, but not quite touching her arm, her hand, her face.

The man is kneeling in the grass. He's wearing a brown pinstripe suit and trainers, his hair a medium brown and sticking up at the back. His hand finally settles, cupping Rose's cheek.

She seems to wake at the touch, her eyes opening, her brow furrowing in pain. She moans softly, and it echoes through Sirius, radiates through his head, too.

"Rose?" the man asks softly, his voice tentative and hopeful, like the beating of new wings.

"My head . . . it's killing me," Rose says, human, breaking.

"I think you need a Doctor," the man says, and leans down, kissing her softly.

 _Oh,_ Sirius thinks again before letting himself settle back into the dreams, content in the knowledge that at least one of them is home again.

*

It's not like Sirius doesn't appreciate the company. Martha is okay – smart, edgy, good to talk to. Rose is Rose, and Sirius knows that no matter what comes next, he will always care about her. The Doctor talks too much, possibly, but he makes for great company. He is fascinated to meet a wizard again – having been part of the Goblin revolt in 1759 – and he is really the only person Sirius can talk to about his world.

But most of all, Sirius appreciates the ride they give him.

Rose and Sirius did land in London, in 2010, exactly as Luna had predicted – where the old Ministry of Magic building, and the Department of Mysteries, had been. The Ministry had moved headquarters in 1999, two years after Harry's defeat of Voldemort. They'd torn the old place down and moved most of the artifacts to the new site before drumming up enough support among the wizarding community to landscape the former property into a park for Muggles. Sirius privately thinks that was actually a stab at keeping the Statute of Secrecy rather than a gesture of goodwill toward the Muggles, but either way, he doesn't really care. The fact is that the Doctor's TARDIS had detected the increasing dimensional shifting that was occurring in preparation for Rose and Sirius' arrival, and therefore the Doctor was in the right place at the right time. The Doctor closed the dimensional port, of course, as Rose and Sirius had both known he would, though both carry sadness about that fact, and probably will for the rest of their days.

For Sirius, fifteen years are still gone. As a man who has lost years of his life before, the feeling is oddly familiar, though unsettling nonetheless. A brief question and answer session with the Doctor over whether Sirius could return to the time he left, 1995, had ended with the Doctor refusing to allow Sirius to cross his own timeline, and with Sirius in a rage. Sirius knows that this mysterious Doctor endures more wisdom about time and space and paradoxes than Sirius or any other man will ever accumulate in his entire lifetime, but Sirius is stubborn, and prone to brooding. Still, Rose's gentle friendship and cups of Irish Breakfast are a minor salve to Sirius' wounds, and Sirius comes to the realization, as he had once before, that freedom and a chance at a new life are more important than any years he's lost.

It only took a cursory skimming through the archives of _The Daily Prophet_ , downloaded into the TARDIS' computer by the Doctor, for Sirius to learn that Harry is indeed alive, and, it seems, well. He had defeated Voldemort and then gone into seclusion for a few years, though around four years ago he had entered into some sort of public life again, accepting the DADA position under McGonagall's reign as Headmistress of Hogwarts. A small wedding announcement told Sirius that Harry had married Ginny after all, and a birth announcement two years later informed Sirius that Harry even has a daughter, Lily May Potter.

But there was nothing in the archives about Remus. Not a mention in any story about the war, or about the rebuilding, or about Hogwarts. There isn't an obituary, even, and Sirius tries to take that as a good sign; surely Harry would have seen to it that proper respect was paid, even if no one else did.

So when Sirius is ready, he has the TARDIS drop him off in front of The Leaky Cauldron. They would have taken him straight to Remus, straight to anywhere in the universe, Sirius knows, but he doesn't know where Remus is, and not even the TARDIS can riddle that out without more information. For some things, Sirius thinks, magic really is better.

As he takes his leave, the Doctor shakes his hand, and Rose cries softly while they embrace. She slips her mobile number into his jacket pocket, telling him to call her as soon as he is ready. Sirius isn't sure how many companions the Doctor actually wants, but regardless, he knows he will be having tea with Rose on a regular basis.

The TARDIS leaves, the by-now-familiar grinding noise fading into the distance, leaving Sirius alone in the middle of the night, standing in a patch of London drizzle waiting for the Knight Bus. He waits so long he is surprised when it appears almost out of nowhere, banging around the corner. It pulls to a shuddering stop in front of him, and the double doors open to reveal an older, much less acne-prone Stan Shunpike.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, transportation of choice for stranded witches and wizards. Five galleons for a standard issue fare, back of the bus, no bed. Eight for a bed. Ten for a bed and breakfast in the morning. I suggest you pay the full ten, sir. It's a ways to Hogsmeade these days, what with the roads being washed out by some spring flooding."

Sirius pays the full ten and boards the bus, knowing for the first time thanks to Shunpike where he's actually going. He uses the bed, but sleeps little, and the only breakfast he eats is two cups of coffee and one of tea. He has just finished the cup of tea when the Knight bus bangs and shudders, suddenly appearing in the middle of a road lined with small, modest homes.

"Hogsmeade, Scotland, 1117 Fardale Road, residence of one Mr. Remus Lupin," Stan announces over the new loudspeaker, though Sirius is the only passenger on the bus. Sirius makes his way to the front of the bus as Stan awkwardly collects Sirius' one bag. Stan hands Sirius' bag to him as Sirius walks down the Bus' steps. Once off the Bus, Sirius fishes in his pocket, handing Stan a galleon for a tip. Shunpike nods his thanks before yelling at the driver for them to be on their way. The Bus bangs out of sight once again, leaving Sirius in front of a modest two story cottage, with a small garden in front, and magical herb beds hanging from the front upstairs windows.

Swallowing hard, Sirius knocks on the front door. He waits for several minutes, but there is no answer. He knocks again, a little louder this time. Still no answer.

Out of curiosity, Sirius decides to make his away around the house, to see if there's a back door or to at least get a better feel for the layout of the house. As he rounds the back corner, Sirius suddenly stops. Remus is in the back garden, tilling, and pulling out the occasional gnome, then shooing it across the lawn. He's wearing a blue jumper with a white shirt underneath, and faded jeans. He's also barefoot, his toes curling in the dirt. Sirius doesn't want to startle him, tries not to make too much noise, but he must make some unexpected move because he watches Remus still in the moment before he goes straight for his wand, which has been lying on the grass near him.

Remus turns, bringing his wand to bear. "I don't tolerate visitors well," he says. "Especially unexpected ones."

Sirius automatically drops the bag he's carrying, but he doesn't reach for the wand in his jacket pocket. He just stands there, watching emotions flit across Remus' face – fear, recognition, disbelief, doubt, anger.

"Whomever you are, this isn't funny," Remus says, his wand shaking, Sirius almost afraid Remus will fire off a curse or two.

"I assure you, I'm not laughing, either," Sirius replies.

"You can't be."

"I am."

"I know. I can smell . . . it's been fifteen years."

"Moony."

"No one calls me that. No one _has_ called me that."

"Not in a long time, I'm sure."

Slowly, Remus lowers his wand. "You might as well come in. I'll fix you some tea."

To tell the truth, Sirius has had enough caffeine this morning between the coffee and the tea on the Knight Bus, but he knows better than to decline. "Better to distract me until the Aurors come?" he says.

"Think what you'd like."

"All right," Sirius says easily.

He follows Remus into the house. The backdoor opens directly into the kitchen, and Remus immediately puts the kettle on, tapping it a little harder than necessary with a warming charm. Sirius watches as Remus opens and shuts cabinets, pulling out tea bags and mugs, sugar and honey. Remus hasn't used his wand yet except on the kettle, but Sirius knows that Remus has plenty of ways to use it covertly. Sirius doesn't sit at the small kitchen table, though he knows Remus wants him to.

"You're dead," Remus finally says.

"I've been dead before."

"No, you've been in prison before," Remus says quietly, and Sirius winces, the quiet accusation hitting home.

"I wasn't dead. Just gone."

"Gone where?"

"It wasn't my choice."

"You say, but we needed you here." Remus takes the kettle off the stove, pours two mugs full over Darjeeling tea bags.

"I wanted to be here."

Remus hands a mug over to Sirius. "Yet here we are in my kitchen, a decade and a half later."

Sirius tastes the tea – it's too hot, scalding his tongue.

"I came back for you," Sirius says, feeling the sting of the water burn on his lips, tongue, knowing what it was like to leave James and Lily and Harry behind on a whim that maybe, just maybe, Remus needed him. As if Remus has ever needed anyone.

"For me – what. Why?"

"Because. Because you're the only person I've ever needed."

Remus snorts. "As if you ever needed anyone."

Suddenly Sirius feels that gaping sadness behind his breastbone, the one that always seems to kill him. "I needed you when I was fifteen and confused. I needed you at sixteen when I was stupid and reckless and cruel. I needed you when I was seventeen and in love and kissing you was like the rising of the tide. I needed you when I was twenty and afraid and blind. I needed you when I was twenty one and cold and alone. I needed you at thirty three, when I was hungry and tired and guilty. I needed you at thirty five when I was angry and depressed and lonely. I needed you every time you loved me. Every time you wanted me. Every time you hated me, or just managed to tolerate me. I need you now, whether you believe me or not."

"You're still selfish," Remus says, mug shaking in his hand.

"Yes," Sirius says.

"What if I can't?"

"You can, Moony. You've always been able to do anything." Sirius steps closer and Remus drops his mug altogether, tea splashing down and shards of ceramic skittering across the floor.

" _Reparo_ ," Remus whispers, his hands skittering the back of the counter as he holds on, allowing Sirius close enough to place gentle lips over his own.

The mug flies up onto the table, jagged pieces knitting back together, showing cracks but still capable of being filled again and again and again.


End file.
